


Fallout: Elysia

by New_Elysia



Category: Fallout (Video Games), The Chronicles Of Vladimir Tod - Zac Brewer
Genre: AU, Fallout AU, Other, Post canon, Vampires, Wasteland, even when you add vampires, post canon au, war... war never changes...
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-09-13 14:25:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16894305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/New_Elysia/pseuds/New_Elysia
Summary: War Never Changes.





	Fallout: Elysia

You’ve lived in the waste land all you’re life, though, never really with a home. You’ve drifted from one settlement to another, sometimes staying only for a few days, other times for years .

But you’ve never stayed somewhere for very long, and most of your life has been spent searching and scavenging the wasteland for food and protection.

As of recently, you’ve come across the ruins of a long destroyed city. It seemed like the traders and residents couldn’t quite agree on the city’s name.

Most seemed to refer to the city as either ‘Stokerton’ or ‘Stockerton’, not that the city’s sign cleared it up.

The paint had been worn away by both nuclear hell fire and years of rust and abuse.

And it didn’t matter, it hadn’t mattered for over two hundred years.

As you pick your away through the cracked and rubble strewn streets, you eye the sun as it starts it’s slow decent behind the towers of rubble.

It becomes quickly clear that you won’t be making it back to the small settlement before nightfall.

You’d have to find someplace else to hunker down before nightfall. Running around the waste land at night was never a  good idea.

Between the ghouls, wild mutated dogs, and raiders, it wasn’t safe.

 You give a pile of crashed prewar cars a large girth, careful not to accidentally bump it. The fusion cores in these cars had a bad habit of blowing from just one wrong move.

You peer at the buildings, trying to decide which one you’d hunker down in.

It wasn’t an easy pick, some of these buildings still had their prewar security systems active. And it didn’t help that ferals could be hiding deep in their depths as well.

But there was no other safe option, since it was getting dark soon and you know the danger only grows.

After a few blocks, you pick what looked to be an old office building. You wager that it could have been thirteen or fourteen stories tall back before the war.

At some point, possibly during or after the war, it had broken free about halfway up. The top few floors leaning precariously against a nearby building.

It was only a matter of time before it came tumbling down to the unforgiving ground.

But for now, the building seemed stable and safe enough to hold up for the night.

You climb the crumbling stone steps, careful to avoid the rubble and bones of the long dead.

You can’t help but imagine how bustling and busy this building must have been on the day the bombs fell.

The people that walking into the building, expecting the safe, mundane day of work that was so common back in the prewar era, were completely whipped clean by the unforgiving hellfire of nuclear bombs.

You stop, peering into the dark building, the lobby is full of rotting furniture and debris. And skeletons.

A lot of skeletons.

As you enter, you take the time to search the remains of long dead people. They had no need for their valuables and goods, but you did.

You stop long enough to pick an old briefcase open, inside you find some rotting papers with odd writing on them and a small loaded pistol. You disregard the papers and check the gun.

It seems in fairly good condition, but you have better. So, you decide to keep it for trading with a caravan later.

Ammo and armor was expensive after all, and you needed the extra caps to keep yourself safe.

After gathering what you can find and carry, you settle down in an alcove.

Across from you sit three elevators,  the first was closed, the second was open, but it's car no where in sight. And the third is partially open, it’s light flickering and a skeleton sticks out of the door way.

It’s obvious that none of them function, at least, not safely anyways.

You settle in and start sorting through your pip-boy. You’d found it sometime back on a skeleton back in west Virginia, it had taken a while to figure out how the prewar piece of tech worked, you’d eventually figured it out.

And it now proved to be invaluable to you.

From managing the items and loot you picked up, to tracking enemies and radiation levels.

You flip over to the radio and start searching for a signal, something for music or local goings on. It was a favorite way you liked to spend your time before slipping off, along side reading those old prewar comic books and magazines.

After a half hour, you manage to pick up a signal, all be it, distorted.

It’s music. Music you’ve never heard before.

You stand and begin walking around, trying to get a clearer signal.

It takes a second, but you find it growing the strongest near a rusted door, a faded and worn label reading ‘maintenance.

You push open the door and peer inside, you look around and are ready to disregard this room, when you notice it.

In the corner of the room is a small jug of prewar cleaning supplies, propping open what looks to be a panel in the wall.

Turning on you’re pip-boy lamp, you walk inside and push open the panel.

On the other side is a dark, rusted stairwell.

Cautiously, you place a foot on the metal landing. It squeals in objection, but doesn’t fall.

Stepping out fully on the platform, you look up. The stairs vanished up into the darkness and eventual break off somewhere up the building.

Looking down, you could see it wasn’t all that different.

Slowly, you start walking down the steps, still fearing that it may fall with out warning.

But it holds and you’re decent only brings more and more skeletons, and oddly, some mummified corpses.

The radiation wasn’t high enough to cause ghoulification, was it?

You check your pip-boy and find it reads pretty clean.

As you descend, your lamp passes over what appears to be a rusted and tarnished handcuff attached to one of the handrail bars.

Even odder, was that one half of the handcuff set seemed to be missing.

You ponder on what might have happened, but then decided it doesn’t really matter all that much.

What ever it was, it had happened over two centuries ago.

You stop at one of the landings and spot a small crate and what looks to be a holotape on top of it.

Picking up the tape, you decided to listen to it much later when there wasn’t a big risk of drawing in n ghouls or other threats.

Looking around the landing, you notice a large vault door set into the wall.

It’s nothing new or special, you’ve seen dozens of them in your travels. Almost all empty, safe for a few.

Who knew how many more there were across the American wasteland. There could be dozens, if not thousands of them.

But, this did seem different.

Normally, when you found a vault or other location, your pip-boy would ding and it would become marked on the map.

But… this hadn’t.

In fact, there was no vault tech logo on it’s surface, nor anything to mark it as a formal vault.

But there was an odd symbol and the number nine painted in chipping paint. Three vertical lines encased in parentheses, you had no idea what that could even mean.

Slowly, you approach it, wondering if the vault is still active.

It’s door certainly seemed sealed shut, like it hadn’t been opened since the day the bombs had dropped.

It meant that there was either an entire group of people in the vault that had been untouched by the wasteland. Or a long empty vault full of prewar goods and weapons.

As you poke around and look for a way, the music suddenly cuts out into static. Then, a voice came through  “Hello? Hello? Can you hear me?”

You look around, there’s a camera in the corner, it’s red light blinking at you.

“can you hear me?” the voice repeats.

You nod slowly at the camera.

“good, good… Now, who are you and who sent you here?”

You respond with your name and that you weren’t sent by anyone.

‘i see” you can hear quiet talking in the back ground, it seemed there were more people in the vault.

“i do think you might be of some use to us, wastelander.” you stare at the camera, confused, what use could you have?

Did they need some machine part from the outside to keep their vault up and running. You had heart stories of vaults being forced to open due to a failed water chip or air purifier.

“stand back, we ill open the door. Keep your weapons sheathed and don’t try anything stupid.”

You nod and back away.

The alarm sounds and the vault door opens with a loud hiss.


End file.
